


Hush Little Baby

by ladyknightanka



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Child Abandonment, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/pseuds/ladyknightanka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a baby is dropped off at Harvey's doorstep, Mike has to assure his usually stoic lover that everything's going to be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush Little Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bballgirl3022](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bballgirl3022/gifts).



-

Hush Little Baby

-

“Mike, get your ass over here!”  
  
Mike is not sure what to expect when Harvey calls him, panics into his ear, and promptly hangs up. In his defense, it's three in the morning and he can imagine Harvey doing much more pleasant things at three in the morning – like sleeping or sleepily kissing him.  
  
But, although they've been not-dating – and he only adds the 'not' for Harvey's forever-a-bachelor peace of mind – for almost a month now, Harvey didn't use his come-hither voice on the phone, nor the do-a-trick-puppy one that he reserved for work. So Mike gets up, pulls on something Harvey will disapprove of less than his _Pokemon_ pajama pants, and bikes his ass over to Harvey's.  
  
“Special delivery,” he says with a breathy little simper when Harvey opens the door, his not-so-subtle attempt at being sultry. It quickly cuts off into a, “W-whoa, dude, whazzat!” once he notices that Harvey has company – if a tiny form in a snow white blanket, whose angelic, sleeping face is the only thing exposed, can count as 'company'.  
  
“It's a baby,” deadpans Harvey, as if Mike doesn't have a hundred eighty IQ.  
  
At the moment, it’s okay. Mike doesn’t feel like a genius, anyway. “B-baby?” he stammers.  
  
“Yes, _this_ –” Harvey hitches the baby up higher. It makes a quiet snuffling sound and turns its face toward the heart of his sweater, nuzzling its cheek there. The motion doesn’t seem to thaw the glowering man. “–is a baby. You, however, are not, so stop mimicking me like one.”  
  
Mike snaps his jaw shut and swallows. “How’d it get here?” he inquires hesitantly.  
  
Harvey sighs and replies, “I found it at my doorstep with a note, alone. I sent the building’s security out to find whoever dropped it off, but so far, no dice.”  
  
“Okay,” Mike says, face scrunched up in thought. He can’t imagine anyone willingly abandoning their child, but he knows it does happen, that some circumstances are bad enough to merit it happening. After a second, he holds out his hand. “First, let me see the note. Then, give me the baby.”  
  
Harvey scowls at the demands, but does as asked. The paper feels wet when it’s transferred between them, but Harvey’s fingers linger at Mike's wrist, a different kind of cold, a comforting kind. The note reads: _Dear Mr. Specter, you wouldn’t remember me. I was a Pro Bono for your firm once. You weren’t my lawyer then, but I remember how you helped Mr. Litt, how you helped save my life. I need your help again, me and my baby, and I’m sorry for laying it on you the way I am, but I have no choice. I’m sorry. Tell Rose I’m sorry, too, please._  
  
Mike finishes reading and sucks in a deep breath. “You can’t guess who this person is?”  
  
“No, I’ve tried,” answers Harvey. He’s tired. Mike can tell because a loose strand of his otherwise perfectly coiffed hair falls into his face and lends it a softer, younger look, something almost vulnerable.  
  
Mike leans forward to take the baby from him and says, “Why don’t you go sit down and lament your lack of an awesome eidetic memory? I’ll take her a while.”  
  
Her, he thinks internally. Not an ‘it’ at all. The baby smiles at him, eyes open a crack. He can see that they’re a gentle brown, like Harvey’s. Her hair is lighter, though, lighter even than Mike’s, more reminiscent of his late, blonde mother. He wonders if a passerby on the street would ever see him and Harvey with the baby and think she was theirs. It wouldn’t bother him if they did.  
  
Harvey sits down. He holds his head in his hands, like it’s too heavy for his shoulders to bear. “What am I going to do, Mike?” he wonders aloud, the query muffled into his skin. He lets himself lean into Mike a bit when he joins him on the couch.  
  
“What are _we_ going to do, you mean,” Mike amends, smiling wanly, “and the answer is, be as epic at this as we are at _everything_ _else_. You’re Harvey Specter, remember? And I’m another you.”  
  
Harvey looks away from his hands and chuckles. “Why do I date you again, you dork?”  
  
Mike merely allows a wider smile. They’ll be fine, all three of them.

-

La Fin

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End file.
